Welcome back to Hollow Tree, dwellers! As many of you likely know, the second book to my Guardian Circle Series, The Guardian’s Choice, has released! For those who have read the series thus far, you know that I’ve been telling a small bit of the untold, behind the scenes story right here on Tales From the Hollow Tree, involving two of the lesser known characters.
The Earth and Air Guardians first met in Dream Walker and now we get another piece of the puzzle with Forged Through Fire. Enjoy! 🙂
by hworks at stock.xchng
She watched him work from the shadows, hidden within her Element, exploring him as she could not in flesh. Her stomach fluttered, a cluster of butterflies eager to break free from their cage. He pounded at the red-hot metal of a steel blade with a large mallet, his naked back and shoulders slick with sweat. She traced the ancient script of his Mark with her eyes, from his neck down the length of his spine, stark black against the warm caramel of his flushed, sun-kissed skin.
His muscles tightened with each mallet swing. The four walls of the tiny, sweltering workshop quivered, ready to buckle, to bow to his power. Continue reading
Hey there Hollow Tree dwellers! Given the inconsistency of our recent posts, and Lisa and I’s inability to be 100% present during these reckless summer months, we have decided to take a temporary hiatus. We’re thinking late September, when things slow back down.
That doesn’t mean the tree will be abandoned. We’re currently lining up some exciting guest bloggers who will regale you with tales from their own brilliant imaginations and we will let you know who and when as slots fill up. If you’re a writer and you’re interested, please let us know! We’ll schedule you! 🙂
Meanwhile, enjoy the sunshine folks. And we’ll see you when the leaves start browning.
Lana waited for the search light to make another round, counting down the sequence she’d committed to memory. Rubbing sweaty palms on her thighs, she straightened her shoulders, crouching low for the run.
“Get ready,” she called behind her.
They rushed across the abandoned plaza and ducked into the sharp angles of the building’s entryway. Jo’s feet were solid lead, banging on the concrete, her breath a frantic pant behind her. Lana waited for the sirens, her heart in her throat, her body tensed for another run. The army never came.
There was only silence. Silence and the sound of Jo’s hysterical breathing.
“Think you could breathe a little louder, Jo?,” she bit over her shoulder. “I don’t think the guards quite hear you.”
“Nick said he’d be here.”
“And he will.”
“Then where is he?”
“Maybe he’s running late.” Lana cupped her hand above her eyes and pressed against the glass. Everything within the building was still dark, only shadows and moonlight dancing in slow circles across the stark white tiles.
My apologies for the silence! I was on vacation until Sunday and got back to immediate domestic duties (note: unpacking sucks). Please forgive me! I will try and have a freebie up on Friday. I hope you’re all enjoying your summer. 🙂
The window ledge is small, far smaller than I remember. Maybe it always was. Maybe I’m the one that’s grown.
So much looks different now. The fields are green and lush as always, but the cityscape on the horizon is new. A sign of time passing. Of moments left behind.
I shift my weight, adjusting my feet, clutching the frame in a white-knuckled grip. The distance between my feet and the ground grows into a dizzying tunnel vision. I shut my eyes tight and breathe. One misstep would send me plummeting five stories down. Continue reading
The tales that say he was a man turned beast are wrong.
There were never any claws or fangs. He’d never howled into the night or wrought fear upon men through feral yellow eyes.
His true nature was much more difficult to discern beneath layers of expensive, well-fitted clothing and years of practiced charm. One could easily fall victim to the seductive grin and fine cheek bones. His milky skin, smooth and velvety soft.
He never wore gloves. When he danced, the young women swooned. It was the thrill of feeling the heat of his hands upon their waists. The small, addictive taste of the forbidden. Continue reading
I was never as naive as I appeared. The big, bright eyes and crimson lips were a facade, a masterpiece painted on an unfortunate and ordinary canvas – a charm. She’d known that well, once upon a time. That my nuances and faults were as real as the powder-white fairness of my skin. And unlike the rest, whose vision of me was crafted of pure fantasy, she’d loved me regardless.
So it’s important that you know: when she offered me the apple, I took it willingly. Continue reading